


The Proposal

by sororexitium



Series: Dragon-Kin [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, I couldn't stop myself, I really wanted to play with Sarah Rogers, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Tony Stark is a Dragon, also, this is pretty much just gratuitous universe building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 15:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7689313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sororexitium/pseuds/sororexitium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He comes up beside him, and he knows that Steve’s heard him by the way his blue-green eyes roll softly and his shoulders move back like he’s preparing for some sort of battle. Tony meanders up to him as lazily as the water flows beneath the small bridge. A small smile grows on his face when Steve pointedly looks at the water, small fish wiggling in the water, all of them silvers and reds. He tilts his face to the side, addressing him softly, “You’ve been hiding from me as though I am a plague.”</p>
<p>Steve shakes his head instantly, his jaw tense and his hands clenching, but when he speaks he sounds pleasant and conversational. “I wouldn’t say plague. Perhaps a scourge.”</p>
<p>“There are many a dragon-kin who would preen at such a name. Kinda hurts me though. Right,” he puts his hand over his chest, feeling around for his second heart, the dragon stone, some call it, where the life force of the dragon lives. When he finds it, he presses down. “…right there.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> This is so totally just my love of building and expanding on this universe. I have so much in my head for this world, people, lands, cultures and all that fun stuff. 
> 
> Also, I wanted to play with a first meeting type thing and...well, no one could stop me.

The letter Tony receives from Queen Sarah of Brooklyn is strange to say the least and on various levels.

Tony isn’t often the recipient of mail, at least not any mail that he took interest in. There are the usual requests for his services, a call to arms by some country or another waging wars that have no bearing on him or any of the dragons and dragon-kin in Stark Mountains. They hardly affect the population above the range, the creatures and residents of the forest that races far up the sides of each mountain.

There are promises of the best gold and silver, the shiniest of jewels and rarest of trinkets in exchange for weapons forged in the earth fires under the mountains at which point he usually ships off one of the throwaway swords he makes in his spare time when he’s bored. Sometimes he’s paid for magical pieces. A scale, which he gives easily as he has such an overwhelming abundance. Teeth, which he doesn’t have in abundance but grow back in timely manner so he’ll pull one if it’s for a good reason.

And then the most common, he has the pleas to stay away. It’s what most dragon and dragon-kin receive. Even consorts and companions after a while are told to stay away lest they bring bad luck upon a kingdom. Human civilizations are paranoid enough of their own kind and do not take well to creatures of magical nature.

Which is what makes the letter from Queen Sarah so very strange indeed and what captures his attention so rapidly. Because it is none of the above. She, ruler of a very prominent if small country, asks for no support or weapons for her armies. She has inspired armies to defend her country, her castle, and her keep. The Queen with only one heir, her precious son no older than twenty years old, calls upon him for a far greater reason. She writes for him to take her son as consort.

She’s sent a speedy hawk, one with sharp eyes and impatience that reminds him of his very second companion. Pepper was always impatient, always something to do and somewhere to be. She’d been the most active companion in history, Tony doesn’t care what the books say. But Tony would not be rushed for her and he won’t be rushed for her feathered reincarnate. He reads the missive again and again, searching for a hidden meaning behind it, for a sign that this is some trick, malevolent or otherwise.

But Tony discerns nothing other than a mother worried for her son.

_Lord Dragon Anthony of the Blackened Mountain,_ it reads with very sharp and precise penmanship that makes him think of hidden knives up long flowing sleeves and firm touch to soothe an aching mind. _I pray you forgive the shortness of my letter. I have a short time to write this myself and no time for propriety or niceties. I’m sure that you have heard of my son, Prince Steven, and the state of his health. He has always been a sickly thing, but I fear after the war the Mad Wizard brought against our castle, his health has only deteriorated. Mender Erskine, the healer within the keep, confided to me recently that he does not expect my son to make it past the winter to come. I implore you as a mother, not as queen, please take him as your consort. Please give him the chance for life. My hawk awaits your response._

Her signature is all that follows. It is short and to the point, but emotion behind it speaks volumes. He reads it a few more times in the light of his ornate kitchen, the bird still staring at him with annoyance. Tony hums and when he sets the letter down on the table, he’s not sure whether he actually needs to think it over or if he does it just to spite the feathered thing. He tells himself it is to think it over as any dragon in his position would. After all, it isn’t everyday dragon-kin receive a letter _asking_ them to come take away the heir to the crown as a companion which generally only last a few years…maybe a decade, let alone as a consort which lasts for life and is entirely irreversible.

It also isn’t everyday Tony considers taking a consort. Of course, he’d thought of it in passing. He’s had it brought up when he was forced to mingle with other, older dragon-kin who think a dragon over two-hundred years old should settle down with a properly stolen consort. And they all wonder why he’s so rude and anti-social, preferring his forges to the company of fat, rich dragon-kin with too much money and not enough world-sense.

Which brought him to the question of why Queen Sarah of Brooklyn would offer up her only child to dragon-kin when they are widely rumored (and rightly so) to have little understanding of human kind and their nature, how delicate and sensitive they are. She must know that as consort, Steve would be bound to him for life and never to return to Brooklyn to rule. Even with the promise of a long, healthier life, it would not mean she would see him as often as she wished and she couldn’t know that he was anywhere near decent because in all honesty, he truly isn’t.

Perplexing, without a doubt. Tony has always been a curious sort. That’s what lead him on some of his travels, how he met some of the people he knew and knows. He thinks if nothing else, this will be a chance to meet new people and see Brooklyn up close, instead of flying over it on his way to the Shadow Mountains. And perhaps Prince Steve isn’t so bad of a fellow.

He writes a quick response, a little something to tell her he’ll be leaving within the fortnight and he teases the damn bird with it until it nips his fingers. And doesn’t it just figure that he can play in earth fire all day and sleep on a bed of coals if he so chooses, which he doesn’t often but has before, but a little bird can make him bleed. He’s always found that unfair.

“Go on, ya buzzard,” he shoos it away and it goes with only one last glare, leaving him in his caves with his three salamanders, You, Dummy, and Butterfingers. Quite possibly the most useless things in existence but they’re quick and resistant to fire which means every now and then when he needs something to hold down red hot metal while he works it, they can flop their fat bodies down onto it. Other than that, they take up his space and nearly set fire to his parchments and books and splash earth fire all about.

Within a week, he’s finished thinking about everything. He’s thought of what it would be like to have a consort, what that would entail, if he’s really ready for that commitment. What he decides is that he’ll never really know until he meets this young prince and there’s really no time like the present. And if it’s a surprise when he arrives, it’s likely for the better. He sincerely doubts her majesty has told anyone she’s invited a dragon to come take her son away. It’s highly improper, after all.

It’s raining over the range when he leaves Blackened Mountain, the warm summer showers coming at odd intervals. He turns his face up to the sky, letting the droplets fall against his human skin for a moment, the water fizzling away as soon as it touches him. The sensation always makes him smile, the simplicity of the feeling, the innocence he still feels in doing so.

A moment later and he’s ready to go, everything growing larger, skin thicker and redder. It’s all so effortless, a smooth transformation that takes no more than a minute if that and it doesn’t hurt although most everyone he’d known who wasn’t Dragon-kin always said it looked like hell. He gives a few tentative stretches of his wings, the leathery skin between each finger going taught as he flaps, veins highlighted in the somewhat translucent skin as the weak light of the sky shines through.

He’s pretty damn impressive, if he does say so himself, no matter what the others may say about him.

And with that little positive thought in his head, he snatches up his bag with his dew claw and makes the trip to Brooklyn. It’s a short little flight compared to some he’s made, but still enough of a distance to really feel like he’s getting exercise and enjoying what the scenery has to offer. He watches the creatures below, mostly humans and farm animals. Not many magical creatures live out in the plains. They prefer the forests and the mountains, to swim below the surface of the massive lakes and rivers, on islands and in caves, such as he does.

Humans prefer the open fields, prefer the flat lands that give them a better vantage. They like their numbers in keeps and castles, towns and sprawling cities. Their safety is in numbers and Tony will never begrudge them that. They are quite weak when not in groups.

When he drops to the grassy lands just outside the still partially charred city walls, he’s out run the storm and he already has the attention of the citizens and he’s unable to not give them a little show, flapping his wings as he lands and stretching his long neck out. He’s always enjoyed a bit of showmanship. He lets out a short burst of blue flame, bright as the blue sky above them, and stomps around a little bit with his tail trailing behind him. Their gasps and screams are rather adorable. The entrance is more often than not, his favorite part of any foray into human territory.

And when he sinks back into his human skin, there are more rounds of awe and fear and it makes him smile, even as he bows to them, nude as the day he was born. He chuckles to himself as he reaches for the satchel he’d packed for himself, pulling out breeches, boots, and pulling a robe around himself. The rest of the bag is filled with gold and jewels, for his own spending pleasures and for the royal family who will host him. If his mother has taught him anything, it is to be a gracious guest.

The guard come for him then and greet him on horses that won’t come within twenty feet of him and with their hands at their weapons. Their leader is a strikingly unnerving man with hair so pale, eyes like fire, and a moustache that curls a little at the edges. He cuts a rather fearsome figure in his armor and Tony’s almost sure he’s not even trying. Not to say the others aren’t as impressive, because they would be enough to make most humans fall into line.

As it is, he is Dragon-kin and could burn them to charred bone and ashes if he so wished it. He bows a little, polite as he can manage. “Good afternoon. I take you gentlemen to be knights of her majesty’s royal guard?”

“That you might do,” the leader calls back, speaking gruffly in a way Tony might not have imagined from someone of his status as he leans further over the pommel of his saddle. “And who might you be, hmm? What’s your business here?”

“I’m Anthony of Stark Mountains and I’m here to speak with the Queen. I have some business with her that is rather sensitive in nature.” The faces of all the guards fall, as Tony has expected. A dragon seeking to speak with a reigning monarch is hardly a good thing in the eyes of humans. They seem to see it as a curse, and perhaps sometimes it might be to the young prince or princess that is taken away, but Tony prefers to think of it as educational. The knights stay still on their mounts, conferring with one another in hushed voices until Tony asks, not unkindly but with enough edge to get their attention. “Am I being denied?”

The insinuation that Tony might set something on fire is enough to get them moving even though he’d never do more than probably steal a few cattle and possibly some of their books. He doesn’t believe in harming innocent people because he doesn’t get his way. He’s dragon-kin, not a madman.

Brooklyn’s symbol is the five-pointed star over a river, silver on a dark blue field and their banners fly proudly at nearly every corner and lamp. He’s not sure if their national pride is due to the victory they only just won against the mad wizard, Red Skull, or if they are always as patriotic as this, but it makes him smile regardless. He takes in all the shops as he’s lead toward the keep, some still under repair, but most seem to have opened back up for business. Vendors are out with their carts, selling their wares and haggling with customers.

As they travel closer to the keep, the air changes. There are no longer small shops, vendors, or hagglers. The level of poise and elegance rises. The houses become more sophisticated, gates and stables better kept, inns and brothels more expensive. There are still several people, but they’re in silks and chiffons of colorful fashion. The banners never cease though, calling his eye to them with each one they pass.

Trumpeters sound when they reach the gates of the keep. The large iron doors, dark and battered, swing open and from his position in the center of the guard, Tony can see the courtyard and hear the brook that flows through it.

There is where he first sees the royal family. Queen Sarah is ornate and beautiful in a summer gown of gold and white, straw yellow hair twisted into a fashionable but light up-do. She’s…smaller than he might have imagine. He would have thought her taller and perhaps a bit sturdier. She looks just as tiny and frail as she had described her son, but there’s a hard edge to her blue eyes that says she’s not a woman to be trifled with.

To Queen Sarah’s left is her brother. He’s only slightly taller than she is and he has a young woman, two girls, and a young boy surrounding him. One of his children will take the throne if Tony takes Steve as his consort, something Sarah is sure to have thought of and accepted. A worthy exchange to keep her only child alive and cared for.

To her right, Tony imagines he has the delight of seeing Prince Steven for the very first time. He’s not in summer clothes, but not necessarily winter clothes. It’s obviously meant to keep him warm without overheating him. He has a paleness to him and his hair flops into his bright eyes. He seems on the verge of sickness, even in the summer months where most are healthier and stay that way if they have their wits about them.

Steve is barely even trying to hide his glare, lips so thin they almost disappear entirely. He has an energy inside him and it burns brightly, like the very stars on his banners. Tony hates to be cliché, but he’s a little smitten, right then and there.

He bows to them with more respect than he’d shown the guards, waiting patiently for her herald to introduce each and every one of them, name by long and drawn out name. Truly it’s the only part of meeting new people, especially those of high born status. So tedious and he just barely keeps from sighing and rolling his eyes as it drags on. When everyone has been named though, everyone except for him at least, he spreads his hands out, greeting, “Your majesty. My deepest apologies for my unannounced arrival and my many thanks for your welcome.”

“Not like we had much of a choice.”

He just barely hears the words and probably wouldn’t have if not for a kind wind that carried Steve’s words over. It’s only by years of practice keeping straight face that he doesn’t give away the fact that he’d heard anything. When he pulls out of his bow, he pretends not to notice how quickly Queen Sarah releases her son’s hand and smiles at him or the way Steve takes his own hand to massage out the punishment she had given him.

“The pleasure is ours alone…Forgive me. I didn’t catch your name,” she says, as if to ensure than no one could possibly think she’d written him or sent for his services. She doesn’t need to. No one would suspect a thing, but he plays along regardless.

“Ah, yes. How rude of me. I am Lord Dragon Anthony of the Blackened Mountain, Keeper of the Stark Mountains, and son to Lord Dragon Howard of Hero’s Mountain and his esteemed consort, Maria of the Carbonell Islands. But please if you would be so kind, please call me Tony. Here,” he reaches for his satchel, rummaging through his personal gold to unearth the purse he’d packed for them. “For your troubles. I’ll likely be staying a few weeks.”

Queen Sarah takes the hefty bag, her eyes widening just a touch as her thin wrist sways with the weight of it. She covers her surprise well, although her family has no such couth. Especially Steve who stares at the bag and then gives Tony a suspicious look. One would think he hadn’t run across many polite guests.

To the exact opposite of his surprise, Steve tells him with polished, polite aggressiveness, “I think you’ll find it far more appropriate to pay an inn for your stay, instead of the royal house.”

Tony does nothing to hide his amusement and intrigue with the young human who does nothing to hide the fight inside him despite his small, infirmed frame. He wants to do something, but he doesn’t know whether to rile him up and tease him or try impressing him with fire and magic…perhaps just kiss his pursed lips until they’re cherry wine red. He’ll definitely consider the last later. When they’ve had time together.

Even as he smirks, Sarah scolds her son softly, a nervous glance toward Tony that could easily just be read as her trying not to piss off the big scary dragon-kin. In a way, he’s sure it is. If she wishes him to take her son as consort and share his life force with him, Tony does actually have to like him or at least tolerate him. If only she’d known of Tony’s only two companions. Steve is on his way to being on part with their sass and lip.

“Ignore him,” Sarah says, glaring at Steve in that way only parents have. “You are welcome here and we are most gracious for the gifts you have bestowed on us. Please. Let our staff show you to your rooms and then perhaps you would be good enough to join me in the council room for a private audience.”

Steve looks at her with some hope, but just as suddenly looks guilty and resigned, his bright eyes going to the ground as his fists clench at his side, the white of bone a sharp contrast against the embroidered red cotton of his shirt. He barely waits for her dismissal before he’s stomping off and dragging a younger knight by his cape, the young man with floppy hair stumbling to keep up with the prince. Tony tilts his head curiously, but otherwise keeps his mouth shut and nods the gentleman who comes to collect him and escort him to his temporary rooms.

***

The council room is empty upon Tony’s arrival just a few short hours later, the long table devoid of any actual council members which he’s grateful for. He’s sure they’ll be by later, and he’ll have to convince them all of his grand plan to take the prince as consort when the time comes, sell them all on the belief that this has been his scheme for longer than a week. Oh, they’ll believe that he’d just had a whim to take a life partner, but for his own sanity, he thinks he’d much prefer to give them the idea that he is capable of some forward thought.

He does have plans. He’s spent his time thinking of how his consort-to-be might behave and what might please him. He has some ideas of how to court him, get to know his likes and dislikes, and perhaps give Steve a chance to like him in return. Not all dragon-kin are bad, and Tony likes to think he’s one of the better ones. He works for his gold, enjoys travelling, and as a large positive mark for him, he generally doesn’t fly about setting fires to towns and farms on his down time.

He feels as though he might be a bit of a catch, honestly.

Tony walks the layout of the room, snagging a bit of cheese and bread from a platter that has been left out next to a flask of—he sniffs—spiced mulberry wine. The room is lined with books and scrolls, most of them about strategy, other kingdoms, and maps. There’s a book on the censuses that have been taken of Brooklyn and a few on the surrounding countries. Tony drags his finger along the spine and wonders how much thinner the next book will be after the mad wizard’s attack.

He’s only made his way over to a large tapestry, a carefully woven map that spans the south wall behind the council table, when the door opens behind him. Much to his relief, there’s only her majesty coming through it and she closes the heavy wooden door behind her. She’s all business, no niceties other than a nod of her head and a small smirk sent toward his cup of spiced wine.

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable, Lord Dragon Anthony,” she says, not unkindly but as a way to break the proverbial ice.

Tony tips his glass to her with a small wink. “Good mulberry wine is harder to come by in the Stark Mountains. And please, your majesty, you would do me an honor if you called me Tony. The full title is so stuffy and redundant. Obviously I’m a dragon. I don’t see why our ancestors of old thought it would be a good idea to call attention to it at every possible turn.”

Through the regal poise she carries so effortlessly around her small frame, a small amused smile peaks out. She looks like she’s trying to hide it, but she finds his opinion of titles humorous at least. He’s proud of himself for that.

“If I am to call you Tony, please call me Sarah. I don’t often feel majestic or graceful or any other adjective propriety deems it necessary to call me. Please.” She offers the chair at the head of the table. “I’m sure you have questions and concerns regarding my requests and I, too, have some things to clarify.”

“You did pique my curiosity, I must admit. I’m sure you understand how rare it is for anyone in any kingdom to write me regarding a union of any sort between dragon and heir to a throne. I thought for a brief time that it might actually be a trap, but as that was the first time we had ever corresponded, I thought it seemed a bit too paranoid. Then I thought perhaps a means of bribery. Your son’s hand for…say my allegiance if another wizard came knocking at your city gates. But that didn’t seem very probable either. But are you truly desperate enough to save your son that you would bind him permanently to a dragon?”

Tony takes the tray of bread and cheeses over to the table with the wine, regarding her critically. Her amusement hasn’t lingered as she’s listened, her thin face becoming sharper as she listens to how he’d analyzed her letter. He pours her a glass of wine and she takes it for herself, eyes still trained on him while she sips.

It’s a tense moment, but finally she answers. “I don’t think you quite realize the lengths I would go through to ensure Steve’s safety.”

Tony tilts his head, reminded of the rumors he’d heard about King Joseph. He’d been a drunk according to most, especially towards the end of his days and though no accusations were ever leveled on the Queen, some whisper in the back of pubs and inns about how his fair health had failed him when he challenged her rage. Some said poison. Some said witchcraft. Others still said she’d carved his heart out and the castle had covered up the blatant murder.

“He is all I have in this world, my most precious gift. Nothing else matters to me except for him. Not this kingdom, not my people on the streets, not my brother or his family. I would give it all to ensure his life.” Sarah shrugs, glancing around like perhaps the scrolls might take note of her words, but they’re the only two in here and the only magic around is his own. “To have you take him as your consort, it would grant him a piece of your strength, your health, your longevity. There is nothing more a mother could want.”

Tony’s own mother might have said similar things once. Without softness as Maria of Hero’s Mountain is, she is quite loving and a doting mother. She has been fierce and uncompromising on a number of things in her time, and Tony more often than all others.

“What of his happiness?” he asks, because it seems a fair question.

Sarah’s small smile returns, a hint at the corner of her petal pink lips. “I’m sure you will provide that to him. He may take time to come around to it, but he will. I promise you.”

If he’s honest and he likes to think of himself as an honest sort of dragon-kin, he’s a little shocked by her confidence in his ability to make Prince Steve happy. And it is confidence, utter surety. She isn’t telling him he will be, or threatening that he’d better do so. It’s strange and his curiosity soars ever higher. “How do you know such things? We’ve never met before. I’m sure of it, and yet you hold me in a higher esteem than most those who know me well. Where do you get such faith in me that I won’t keep him captive in my cold, dark cave, and ignore him for all our days?”

“Because you asked after his happiness in the first place. If someone doesn’t care, they don’t ask after it.” She pauses to take another sip of her wine. “And then of course there are the stories about the dragon of Blackened Mountain. I’ve heard tales of your travels, your work with foreign countries, and your kindness to even the lowest of lowborn. I’ve even reached out to your previous companions. The good King of Rhodes spoke very highly of you as did her grace, the High Empress of the Angel Lands. They were both very clear on your kindness and your caring nature, although I do believe the term spoiled came up more than once.”

Tony makes a face before he can stop himself, grimacing in agreement with that particular assessment. He did tend to behave as a spoiled child on more than one occasion with them. He really should send them a little thank you gift for putting up with him so long.

“I would never wish Steve a life of torment and anguish, even if it meant I could keep him until the stars above all burned away. I could do that with magic and potions. I could make him as strong as an ox, as brilliant as a hawk, with the vitality of any god ever imagined with just a touch of the right sort of magic. But it would come with a hefty price. Such magic that gives must take something in return.” Sarah purses her lips softly as if her words come from experience. Her finger traces the rim of her wine cup, absentminded and pensive all at once. “He deserves a real chance at life. And I believe even outside the bond between consort and dragon, he would find that with you, Tony. If you would give him a chance…”

Tony nods, thoughtful all over again as he taps his blunt nail against the smooth polish of the table. Really, his mind is made up already. He must speak to a few others on his own perhaps. Find those who might be closest to the stubborn prince. His mender, surely. And the knight Steve had dragged away. Surely, they would his best bet to gain insight to Steve’s mind and how Tony should best approach him. Because in the long run…he truly can’t bear the thought of leaving him to die.

“I will take him as my consort,” Tony says after a time. “And I will keep it between us that it was you who sent for me.”

“And in return?” Sarah asks, wary as any queen should be.

Tony smirks. “And in return, nothing. I get your son as consort to live with me in the Stark Mountains. Seems handsome a payment to me. If I need something else, I will get it myself, Sarah. I needed nothing more than an explanation from you as to your motives behind all of this.”

She still looks suspicious, as though waiting for him to yell all of this has been in jest. They stare at each other, Tony trying to convey sincerity and Sarah trying to unveil some hidden layer that he may have kept from his companions, but after a long, deep pause, her shoulders relax and a relieved breath rushes out of her. She takes her cup of wine and drinks heavily from it, smiling when she finishes off what little she had left.

“I honestly thought it would take longer than this…that I would be cutting it close with my bid to save his life. I almost don’t know what to do now that it seems to have sorted itself out so quickly.”

“Well, whatever you do, pretend to be stressed,” Tony reminds her with an amused smile growing on his own face. “I am a dragon in your castle come to steal your son away from the throne permanently thereby leaving the crown to your brother or one of his children, after all.”

Sarah laughs, light and summery as her smile. “By all that is good and holy, let them have it. I have done my duty to the most important creature on earth.”

She sits back then, slouching in a way Tony is sure would make all of her court dizzy with surprise. She looks relieved, unabashedly so and she looks out the window where Tony can see the outlines of the gardens through the pristine panes. In the pathway, he sees Prince Steve making grand gestures of frustration, while the knight reclines against a bench looking utterly at a loss.

Tony smirks.

With any luck, Steve’s fiery nature will only flourish in Blackened Mountain.

***

Tony stays and speaks with her majesty and drinks away the mulberry wine as they negotiate over the terms of Steve’s contract as consort. It’s not something a dragon normally does, but Tony is a business man and he understands the need for such contracts sometimes. It also lends some credibility to the idea that Queen Sarah is against this and needs concessions made before she considers handing over her only son and heir.

It’s all rather straight forward. They don’t try to slip anything in under each other’s noses. It’s a rather cleverly drawn up, even if he makes the concession that he will bring Steve back to his home at least twice a year, for his day of birth, the Festival of Stars, as well as for Sarah’s day of birth which falls in early spring. Not that he doesn’t enjoy travelling but he’s usually not so regular about his travels. He’ll make the concessions though, for her and for Steve. He didn’t want his consort to be cooped up in the mountains as his mother had been.

When they sit down for dinner, it is apparent there has been some shuffling around. The Queen’s brother, obviously a man who’s accustomed to sitting at her left, is now one seat further down and though he doesn’t look upset with her at this turn of events, he does look very unhappy it has been done for Tony.

Tony can hardly care about him honestly. Prince Ian is not of his concern, nor is his wife. The little ones…well, children may not always like him, but he has a soft spot for them. Especially the curious ones as the tiny princesses and prince seem to be. The girl, the younger of the two, seem especially enamored with him and he waves and blows out smoke rings while waiting for Prince Steven to join them for dinner.

Only he doesn’t. Instead, Mender Erskine comes into the room and bows softly and respectfully, his perfectly crafted glasses slipping down low on his nose. When he pulls himself upright, he says in a softer dialect of the Skull Islands, “Prince Steve sent me to ask for pardon from tonight’s supper. He has pain in his head and sensitivity to light. I have given him a light pain killer, but he tells me he now feels tired.”

The Queen looks torn between going to his room herself and feeling sympathetic for her sickly son. Tony…well, he’s not surprised. After the warm reception he’d had from the prince, he’d actually been expecting to be avoided for a while. It’s why he’d been prepared to stay here for the summer months. He didn’t want to take Steve against his will. He’d need time to win over the young man.

“Please give the prince my well wishes, Mender Erskine,” he says clearly for the older human.

A few of the other families in the banquet hall mutter to themselves, saying demeaning things he’s sure, but the mender smiles slightly and inclines his head. He seems a kindly man, at ease. He doesn’t look tense around the edges like some here.

“I will certainly do so, Lord Dragon,” he says, bowing once more the Queen Sarah before seeing himself out.

Sarah leans in close for apology, but at that moment, the tiny girl who he’d been attempting to entertain earlier comes up to him and asks him in the sweetest voice if he can really breathe fire in human form. He’s tickled by her bravery and finds it all too easy to get lost in her sweet questions and perform silly tricks for her during dinner until her mother hisses for her that it’s time for studies.

Again, the Queen leans in close to apologize and this time he lets her instead of ignoring her attempts. Honestly, it’s no fault of hers and he doesn’t even blame Steve. He’d like a little bit of a chance, absolutely, but he can be patient. He’d managed so quite easily with his two companions and he will manage more for his consort. So he assures her that he feels no insult and chuckles when she says he’s not usually so obstinate.

He has a feeling she’s sugar-coating at least a little. He’s sure Steve is plenty obstinate with some to spare.

After dinner, he takes himself for a walk through the castle, wandering the halls and learning the layout of the keep and perhaps hoping that he’ll come across the rooms of the prince. He doesn’t manage that part, but he does find the way to the kitchen, which he will likely use to his advantage and the library they keep here, always Tony’s favorite part of any kingdom.

His feet take him outside after that, and he takes a deep breath to see the pinks and oranges of the sun burned clouds against the canvas of periwinkle sky. Tony isn’t often sentimental about sunsets, but there are summer evenings where all the magic in the world doesn’t hold a candle to the magic of the sky. That, against the courtyard with the bridge over the laughing brook, blows all of his own creations away. And that’s, of course, nothing to the young human sitting on the edge of the bridge, boots pulled off, with his feet dangling in the water.

Finally…a moment alone with his…what did Sarah refer to him as in the contract? His intended. Yes, that’s right. Humans and all their silly terminologies.

He comes up beside him, and he knows that Steve’s heard him by the way his blue-green eyes roll softly and his shoulders move back like he’s preparing for some sort of battle. Tony meanders up to him as lazily as the water flows beneath the small bridge. A small smile grows on his face when Steve pointedly looks at the water, small fish wiggling in the water, all of them silvers and reds. He tilts his face to the side, addressing him softly, “You’ve been hiding from me as though I am a plague.”

Steve shakes his head instantly, his jaw tense and his hands clenching, but when he speaks he sounds pleasant and conversational. “I wouldn’t say plague. Perhaps a scourge.”

“There are many a dragon-kin who would preen at such a name. Kinda hurts me though. Right,” he puts his hand over his chest, feeling around for his second heart, the dragon stone, some call it, where the life force of the dragon lives. When he finds it, he presses down. “…right there.”

Tony gets no response for his theatrics, but that’s only because Steve must be too polite to say, ‘Good.’ He may be full of sparks and heat, but he isn’t outright rude apparently. Tony moves a little closer, his concept of personal space always having been a little…dulled, even by dragon-kin standards. After a moment of silence, Tony sighs and settles on the edge of the bridge next to him, letting the toes of his boots dip in the water. “I feel I’ve done something to wrong you and we haven’t even met properly.”

“Your being here in general wrongs me,” Steve replies firmly. Not rude, just how it is. “I don’t like bullies and you’re little more than just that. I don’t care how nice you act to people, how much gold you give to my mother. You came here with the intention to take me away from my home and damn anyone who gets in your way. You’re egotistical, greedy, and…and…”

“Power-hungry. That’s usually somewhere in rants against dragon-kin.” Tony nods, a small frown on his face at the accusations leveled against him personally. Stereotypically speaking, Steve has every right to call him that, but just as not all humans are good if somewhat judgmental, not all dragons are hoarding monsters. He has his flaws. Yes, he likes shiny things, and treasures of all sorts. He has been told he has the propensity to be selfish about certain things. But he’d like to believe that they aren’t all of what makes him up.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” Tony continues, standing up in the shallow stream, careful of the fish that swim around him. “You know everything about me, but I know very little about you.”

Steve looks chastised, but still untrusting, wary as his mother had been. It’s somewhat difficult to imagine that Steve had a father. He looks so much like his mother. He looks back down at the water, at the fish that swim between Tony’s boots, and he mutters a soft apology, begrudging but there.

“You may not like me now, and it may take some time, but we’ll never really get anywhere if you don’t at least give me the benefit of the doubt.” Tony takes the prince’s hand in his own, the skin cold against his own even in the summer months. “If you can do that, I promise I won’t burn any villages to the ground for at least a year…”

Steve jerks his head up, jerking his hand back and Tony breaks out into laughter.

“A joke. Only a joke. The only things I set on fire are by accident. On my honor.” He’s still smiling though, even as Steve glares at him. “Lighten up, pet.”

“I’m not your pet!” Steve growls out instantly, eyes blazing. “I’m an intelligent being, not a dog!”

Tony rolls his eyes expressively, shaking his head as he squeezes Steve’s hand gently in his own. “It’s a term of endearment, Prince Steve. I mean you no disrespect.”

“We don’t know each other well enough for you to use any term of endearment. I haven’t endeared myself to you or vice versa!” Steve’s voice is fierce and his fingers tighten around Tony’s fingers almost tight enough to feel a bit of discomfort. Hard to believe someone like this isn’t expected to make it past the oncoming winter. Then again, even with how long Tony has been holding his hand, there’s still a chill in his bones.

“I’ve been properly chastised, Prince Steve. Please accept my deepest and most sincere apologies.” He brings his hand up, intending to press his forehead to Steve’s bony knuckles as a classic way to ask forgiveness in several different cultures. But Steve jerks his hand back with speed that would make a viper dizzy. He pulls his head up in confusion, brows furrowing.

Steve is glaring at him, hand clenched in a fist. “If you kiss my hand, I’ll knock your teeth in.”

Another smile grows on Tony’s face, his head tilting to the side as Steve doesn’t back down. “You’re gonna need to hit me pretty hard for that.”

“I’ll think of something. I think you’ll find I can be pretty cunning when I need to be.”

“Perfect. I think you’ll find me pretty stubborn when I need to be. We’re a set.”

Above them, the sky turns indigo and the stars come out. The sounds of nightlife come out, crickets and night birds, nocturnal animals beginning to wake. The water is still warm for now, he’s sure, but sickness still clings to Steve so it’s probably better that the Prince makes his way back inside, or at the very least, doesn’t keep his bare feet in the water.

“Come on, then. You can’t very well plan to injure me if you catch sickness. Shall we make our way back into the keep?”

The Prince gives him a droll look, but he pulls himself up onto the bridge and grabs his boots. “I will make my way back to the keep. And as our guest, it would be rude of me to leave you out here. After that, you’re on your own.”

Tony smirks, but he hops the bank of the brook and stands next to Steve, extending his arm in the direction of the castle walls. Steve stalks off on lean legs and Tony follows, feeling like this may not go so terribly, this consort thing he’s agreed to. Steve has a quick wit about him if nothing else. He’ll hold his own just fine in the Blackened Mountain.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh yeah. I'm on Tumblr too if you wanna stop by. I don't do much except exist a little bit there. Like I've had this damn account for years and still it is smarter than I am. Not that it takes much. But if you wanna like, talk or something, search my author name.


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